


A Star In My Universe

by Kawaiibooker



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Tumblr Post, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Soulmate AU, did i mention this is trash? because this is trash, idek ok just take it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiibooker/pseuds/Kawaiibooker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kazuhira Miller is perfectly content with not knowing who his soulmate is (or if he even has one to begin with)... until he discovers that</p><p>a) he <em>does</em> have one and</p><p>b) they can't draw at <em>all</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Star In My Universe

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.
> 
> Inspired by [this tumblr post](http://kawaiibooker.tumblr.com/post/140685874971/diminuendodaydreams-let-gavin-free): "Soulmate au where when you write something on your skin with pen/marker/whatever the hell you want, it will show up on your soulmates skin as well."

It started with a simple drawing of a bird.

Well, at least Kazuhira thinks that’s what it was supposed to be – it had been quite hard to make out, but the uneven blob could be interpreted as a somewhat round body and the small triangle at the top could pass for a beak.

Bird or not, it had appeared on the crook of his left elbow about two months ago while he was under the shower, the wobbly lines a stark black against his pale skin; he had thought it was some kind of weird smudge at first, but no amount of soap could wash it away. It took a few minutes to understand that, after almost forty years of _nothing_ , the first thing his soulmate decided to show him was a misshapen bird.

Kaz was so offended, in fact, that he simply ignored it and went to work, just like every other day. Riding the elevator to the top floor, his thoughts circled around the mark and the person behind it. They’d have to try harder to get a reaction from him, he decided – after all, he’d lived quite comfortably with the knowledge that he could be one of the rare ten percent who are born without a soulmate. _The concept of a soulmate is so constricting anyways and outdated to boot_ , Kaz thought as he stepped into his office. _There’s really no need to chase after them._

The bird faded in the evening and was completely gone come morning. Kaz caught himself rubbing the spot where it had been and stopped immediately, annoyed by his own behavior. He couldn’t deny the spike of excitement, though, when the second doodle appeared near his wrist around lunch the next day – he squinted his eyes at the four-legged _thing_ now adorning his arm, determining it had to be a dog... or maybe a disfigured horse.

It occured to him a moment later that he liked to wear his sleeves rolled up and that the mark was perfectly displayed for everyone at the office because of this. Kaz cursed. _Couldn’t you have thought of a more conceiled spot?_ he silently asked whoever his soulmate was, pushing down his sleeves with a sigh. Still, once he was firmly seated behind his desk again, he dared to take a peek at his wrist. It’s still there, looking like an old tattoo by now.

If asked, Kaz would firmly deny the slow smile that spread on his lips.

*

 _Okay, that’s enough!_ It’s by chance that he had been looking at his hand, listening intently to the executive currently presenting their plan for this year's financial report. As head of accounting, Kaz is in charge of checking and rechecking it for mistakes – missing bills, additional taxes, that sort of thing – so he really has to pay attention and _not be distracted by the lines appearing one by one on his palm._

His arm, okay; the occasional drawing on his thigh, weird... but still covered by his pants so it wasn’t too bad; he even accepted the crappy snake rolled up on his shoulder, admitting it was kind of cute and most importantly out of sight – but _this_ crosses the line.

 _I swear I’m going to find them just to kill them slowly and painfully_ , he thinks furiously, clenching his hand into a fist. Unfortunately, that wrinkles the printed out activity statement he’s holding, resulting in a too-loud rustling of paper that attracts the attention of every single person attending the meeting. Kaz feels his heart miss a beat, but doesn’t let his embarrassment show on his face; he cocks an eyebrow instead, challenging anyone to comment on it. The judging looks are adverted quickly. _Good._

He can’t even check what the hell it is his soulmate is drawing all over his left hand which is his dominant one, thank you _very_ much; he only feels the tell-tale tingling of his skin as it adapts to the state of the other's. The rest of the meeting takes ages to finish and he excuses himself instantly once it’s deemed polite enough to do so.

Kaz does _not_ run back to his office – it’s more of a power walk, really – and he knows the relief he feels at the satisfying click of the doors closing behind him is disproportionate. It doesn’t stop him from turning on the light and looking intently at his hand.

As always, it takes him a few seconds to make out the animal – it’s always an animal, without fail – but the drawing style is by now as familiar to him as his own messy scrawl. It’s a cat. It’s too fat, its legs too short, its tail wrapped around his thumb and, okay, maybe it’s more elaborate than the other ones but still. He’s risking possible failure on the most important job of the year for a fucking _cat_.

He doesn’t think about his next move; he just grabs the nearest pen and writes ‘STOP IT’ above the cat’s head, underlining it neatly for emphasis. Then, Kaz stands there in the middle of his office, staring at his palm like an idiot, willing the other person to answer him, _now_.

Given that he hasn’t reacted to any of the other doodles before, the response is surprisingly fast even if it doesn’t help quell his frustration. ‘No.’ it says with a small arrow pointed at the two words he has written. Then his soulmate has the nerve to draw a smaller version of the cat beside the first one, barely recognizable because it’s so hurried.

Kaz grits his teeth, ruffling his neat hair style in his agitated state before it occurs to him that he’s still at work and has to look presentable. He has an image to uphold, for Christ’s sake, even if his soulmate doesn’t seem to care about that at all.

Deciding that it’s too much effort to write with his right hand, he switches and picks a spot on the inside of his right wrist to write on. ‘Just stay off the hands!’

This time, the answer is immediate, mirroring the spot he chose but on his left arm. 'Ok, ok. What’s your name?'

‘Kazuhira. You’re not getting my last name.’ Kaz smirks smugly. There’s a lot of Kazuhiras in the world; not so many in New York, but his soulmate doesn’t need to know where he lives, does he?

‘I’m V. Why are you pissed? You don’t like the animals? :-(‘

Absurdly, Kaz’s heart clenches at the thought that his soulmate is sad because of him. _What the fuck?_ , he asks himself, shaking his head in disbelief. _This person is a total stranger. Why should I care what they feel?_

‘What kind of name is “V”? And it’s not the animals.’

‘A nickname, obviously. What is it then? :-/’

Kaz stares a long moment at the emoticons on his skin. One he can accept, but two? “How old are you, five?”, he mumbles into the silence of his office. _Great, now I'm starting to talk to myself..._ ‘I can’t run around with doodles all over my body at work. It’s unprofessional.’ It’s getting difficult to find enough space to write his answers, but he somehow manages to squeeze it in.

‘Oh. Sorry.’ V seems to have the same problem, the two short words appearing right beneath the crease between his wrist and his hand. Kaz notes it’s technically still in the permitted area and smiles before he catches himself again.

Then he checks the time on his golden rolex and curses. ‘Gotta go’ he scribbles hastily on the only spot left empty, above the faint lines of his veins. Kaz looks at his arms – their conversation looks like bizarre tattoo sleeves, the blue ink of his ball pen mixing with the sharp black of V’s – and sighs deeply.

He lets the small ‘Ok! :-)’ disappear beneath the fabric of his shirt and finally gets to work. V is quiet for the rest of the day.

*

They develop a sort of code in the following weeks. If one of them wants to talk, they place a single dot on the inside of their respective arm – V uses the left, Kaz the right – to ask for permission. The other answers with a ‘?’ to grant it or an ‘x’ to deny it.

Whoever V is, they learn quickly that Kaz is more willing to talk after he leaves his office at 7 pm sharp. At home, he doesn’t mind the wayward marks so much, cherishes them in fact as they keep him company on the evenings he would’ve otherwise spent alone in front of his TV. Following V’s example, he draws on the empty canvass of his own skin when the mood strikes him, mostly copying the objects in the vicinity – his half-full coffee mug, the remote of his TV, the small potted plant on his window sill. They seem to make V happy, the other adding short comments like ‘Nice!’ or a simple emoticon beside the drawings even if their script looks even worse when they write with their left. Kaz finds it oddly endearing.

For his part, Kaz notices that V seems to fluctuate in their need for communication. Sometimes a whole week passes with small crosses appearing on his skin every time he reaches out to them on his way to his car and despite his initial opposition to their bond, he finds himself biting his bottom lip in worry. Still, they agreed not to push the other if the offer is denied and Kaz keeps his promises, always.

Now that Kaz thinks about it, the doodles – thankfully reduced to a minimum now, even if he misses them sometimes – hadn’t been a regular thing but more of a sporadic occurrence, a spur of the moment decision. He wonders what V thinks about when they draw them, what drove them to contact their soulmate in such an unusual way in the first place.

He holds those questions back on the days they are both ready to talk, though; in the end, he doesn’t know V, not really – he didn’t even ask for their gender, for fuck’s sake, and by now it would be too awkward to correct that mistake, not that he would mind in any case – and he doesn’t want to upset them unnecessarily.

There’s a few things Kaz _does_ know about his mysterious soulmate, though. They told him they’re a doctor, though not exactly in which field; that their birthday is on September 4 th (they had written back and forth that day and Kaz even drew them a birthday cake with candles and everything to celebrate it properly); that they don’t own a pet, but wish to have one - 'once I’m feeling better', they wrote.

Kaz feels like he’s slowly gathering a pile of puzzle pieces to V’s identity that don’t seem to fit together quite right. He knows their name, but not their gender. He knows their birthday, but not their age. He knows they’re not feeling well, but not why that is. It’s frustrating, to say the least – but then Kaz reminds himself that he isn’t exactly generous with details about himself, either. V is probably playing the same guessing game he is, only with reversed positions.

The thought of meeting V is there, constantly – following his every step, haunting his dreams where he sees a shadowy figure walking in front of him, but every time he calls their name, the phantom disappears and he wakes up in cold sweat, heart racing. The missed sleep is really starting to mess with his performance at work, and if there’s something Kaz hates, it’s being inefficient.

It’s the reason why he decides to call quits on the ridiculous game of charade they’re playing, half a year after that very first doodle of a bird appeared on his arm and changed his life forever. His hands are trembling ever so slightly when he puts the dot on the usual spot, right above the small freckle on his wrist. The answer is immediate, the ‘?’ bringing a smile to his face before it disappears again, his nervousness making his heart pound faster in his chest.

He writes out the next words carefully, to ensure V understands him clearly. ‘My name is Kazuhira Miller. I live in New York. Meet-up?’

The long wait for V’s answer is pure torture. A small dot appears beneath the question mark, but it doesn’t move into the swift lines he’s used to – V is hesitating.

Kaz is about to cross out the lonely sentence running along his underarm, hating the sinking feeling in his gut. He should have known it was a dumb idea–

‘Hello, Kazuhira Miller. I’m Vincente Ruiz. I live in San José, Uruguay. Yes, please.’

“Vincente”, Kaz reads out loud, trying out the foreign name. He’s pretty sure he’s saying it wrong, but he doesn’t really care because _V is a guy and_ _he lives in Uruguay and oh god, this is really happening–_

Then, V continues: ‘I can’t leave. Long story. Ok?’

Kaz frowns at the first sentence, the familiar worry bubbling up. He makes a rough estimate of his savings in his head, nodding to himself after a moment. The advantage of working tirelessly for a huge corporation is the frankly ridiculous amounts of money you make off of it. ‘No problem, I can come over. When?’

‘I’m free. You decide.’ A second later, a ‘:-)’ appears beside the words and Kaz laughs, his worry forgotten. _This ridiculous man and his dumb emoticons._

‘Don’t :-) me, idiot. January 25th?’ He remembers he still has some unused holidays and his boss is used to him taking the days off after he and his department finish the annual financial statement, anyways. Still, it's only two weeks away - setting such a close date is a risk. Kaz’s biting his lip again by the time V’s answer draws itself on his skin, a simple ‘Si.’.

Kaz notices then that they’ve run out of space again and sighs, squeezing in a final ‘Ttyl?’ that V responds to by circling in his previous answer, turning the dot into an exclamation mark.

*

He steps out of the small plane, glad for the protection his aviators offer his eyes when the too-bright sun bears down on him mercilessly. Kaz had expected it to some degree; even so, the change from the cold New York winter to the tropical climate of Uruguay hits him like a brick wall.

He divests himself of his trench coat instantly, draping it over the handle of his medium-sized suitcase to keep his hands free. His passport proves to be a good substitute for a fan and he’s waving with it almost constantly by the time he’s through baggage claim, slinging his large duffel bag over his back with some effort.

Standing in line to the exit, he checks his watch, pleased that he’s right on time – then, he notices the beginnings of a new drawing on his arm and he stops with a smile, watching as the black lines connect, resulting in the face of a bearded man with a pony tail. It’s the first non-animal doodle Kaz has seen from V and it’s exactly as crude as all the others had been.

‘Waiting for you. Look out for this guy.’, V writes beneath it. ‘He’s nicer than he looks.’

Kaz snorts, running his finger over the mark for a moment before he fishes out his ball pen from the front pocket of his shirt. He’s about to answer when it dawns on him that he doesn’t have to – there’s only one door separating them now and then he can say it to him in person.

Picking up his bags and squaring his shoulders, Kaz steps out into the large lobby of the airport, looking out for the bearded man with a pony tail. There’s only one person there that fits the description, standing behind the railing separating the waiting crowd from the arriving passengers.

Their eyes meet for the first time; deep blue fills with a gentle hope that reminds Kaz that _oh, he doesn’t know what I look like_ but there’s no room for doubt or fear in his heart. Happiness spreads from his chest to every other part of his body and Kaz feels his lips pulling into a broad smile as he walks towards V, who starts grinning, too.

Uncaring of the people staring at them, Kaz throws his luggage to the floor and pulls his soulmate into the tightest hug he can manage, laughing breathlessly as he feels strong arms wrap around his waist, the responding chuckle from V a deep rumble against his chest.

They part after a while – seconds, minutes, Kaz doesn’t know and doesn’t _care_ – cradling each other’s faces to take a good look. V pushes his sun glasses out of the way with utmost care while Kaz’s gaze flickers over his tan skin, the worry lines on his brow and the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, the thick stubble on his cheeks before he takes in the faint scars across his face, the way one eye doesn’t move while the other does – _glass eye_ , his mind supplies – and it’s all beautiful to him.

He wonders what V sees, if he’s as happy with the way Kaz looks as he is with him, but doesn’t have to wonder long because the other draws him close and kisses him. It’s a gentle brush of his scarred lips on Kaz’s smooth ones, a question more than anything–

Tangling his hand in the scarf V is wearing, Kaz pulls him into the next kiss, his answer a silent  _yes_.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one-shot instead of the paper I should be writing, so if my academic career fails it's 100% because of this. Also I'm sorry if I fucked up writing singular they, I'm not used to it and it's a bit wonky so let me know if you find any mistakes...
> 
> Also, since I couldn't fit it anywhere in the story: The reason why V never wrote anything was because he was waiting for his soulmate to do it first, just like Kaz. Then he got in a car crash and suffered heavy amnesia, amongst other things. His therapist asked him one day if he had found his soulmate yet and that he should try to reach out to them with something that makes him happy (as the chances are that the other half of his soul will like it, too). V went with animals, because of course he would.
> 
> Kudos to him for being undeterred by his crappy drawing skills and Kaz's initial grumpiness tbh


End file.
